ShieldShots
by GenericallyFunnyUsername
Summary: I realize the number of Shield one-shots I want to write are unsettling so I plan on putting them here.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Originality

**Rating:** PG-13

**Characters: **Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, CM Punk, Colt Cabana, Chris Jericho

**Pairing:** Dean/Seth/Roman

**Genre: **hurt/comfort

**Disclaimer:** Sadly I don't own the WWE.

**Summary: **Seth is feeling a bit insecure.

**Word Count: **1602

**A.N./ I just really really wanted some Sad Seth and for his babies to comfort him. As always this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are sadly all mine. Enjoy!**

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Seth doesn't remember the name of the bar he had crash-landed in, all he remembered was the place strongly smelled of dirt and whiskey. He remembers his reasons though, Roman was laid up in bed with a head splitting migraine and Dean was off somewhere. Maybe torturing small animals. Who knows? All Seth knew was he wanted to relax a little have a drink, take the edge off. He had been teetering on edge for sometime now and he had no clue why.

"It's funny seeing you by yourself," Seth looked up and the smaller blonde man. "not trailing behind Ambrose and Reigns. Where are they anyway? Finally got sick of you?" Jericho's taunting was relentless.

Now he knew why. He had always thought he was holding Dean and Roman back. He knew he was the weak link and now it was official because someone thought so too.

"Shut up., just shut the fuck up. You don't shit about us." His defense was mumbled mostly into his drink.

"Hate to break it to you, but they'd be better off without you. Everyone knows; look around." Seth did look and everyone in the bar was laughing. They were laughing at him because he was a poor excuse for a man, a poor excuse for a human being. "What makes you special?" Jericho waited for a reply he knew he wasn't going to get. "Your stupid two-tone hair? Yeah, get real. You're just as bland and boring as a person can be. You're Marty Janettey-"

Seth didn't wait for him to finish, he ripped his shoulder from Jericho's grasp and rushed out of the bar and sat in front of the steering wheel willing himself not to cry. He could follow Jericho home and kill his puppy, but that's what Dean would've done. He could wait until he left the bar and kicked his ass then, but that's what Roman would've done. He just sat in the car, almost breaking down, until he came up with an idea.

Almost tripping, he fled out the car door and popped open the trunk and retrieved the baseball bat tucked away in the right corner of the trunk. He remembers once asking Dean why he felt the need to keep the slugger in the car at all times and Dean just smirked and said, "In case it ever needs to be used." Seth believed this is just that case. Stalking through the dark of the night with the wooden object slung over his shoulder seeking out Jericho's car. Of course, it would be the flashy silver Benz parked by its lonesome.

Seth circled the car once, stood one the driver's side, and with one well-placed swing the bat connected with the window and it shattered to pieces. His breath stopped as he waited or the alarm to blare. After thirty seconds, the air was still and silent. Smirking, Seth raised the bat high once again and dropped it on the windshield. With ragged breaths, Seth didn't stop until every piece of glass on the overpriced DoucheMobile was demolished and every surface on the car was bent and dented to all hell. Dropping the bat to his waist Seth let out a loud, bitter, howling, laugh. He knew if anyone ever found out what he'd did he'd get his ass handed to him, get fined, maybe even fired. But at this point in his life, Seth Rollins couldn't find a fuck in the world to give.

Regaining his wits Seth strolled over to his own car, placed his newfound best friend in the passenger seat, and started up the engine. He was about to pull out of the parking lot but he realized something, he had nowhere to go. He couldn't go home. They probably wouldn't want him there. He was weak, childish, and no type of asset. They were in Chicago so maybe he would have one place to go.

He stood in front of the door for a short while, he was almost convinced he wasn't home and turned to leave the apartment building when the door was pulled open.

"Ty. What's up man? Jeez, it's damn near one in the morning. Get in here." Punk pulled him into the apartment by his elbow and dumped him on the couch.

Seth smiled up at the older man and opened his mouth to explain just what he was doing on his couch this late, but Colt cut him off loudly entering the room.

"Okay, what the fuck-" Colt opened his eyes and broke into a face-splitting grin. "Tyler!" Jumping on the couch next to the smaller man Colt began shaking and hugging him. "What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your boys?"

Seth shook his head and his bottom lip began trembling as he recounted the story, from Jericho's hurtful words, to destroying his car, to driving over to the apartment in a flurry of tears.

"I know Jon; if he thought you were useless he wouldn't have even entertained the idea of being with you. If anything he thought he wasn't good enough." Colt said throwing a comforting arm around Seth's still shaking body.

"Roman cares about you, don't second guess that okay? Ever since he met you in that hellhole FCW he knew you were worth it. So get some sleep and you can go back home in the morning."

Colt stood up and they watched as Seth settled into the couch to get comfortable, heading back to their room Colt turned to Punk and said, "The kid really took a Louisville Slugger to Jericho's car?"

Punk could only nod and laugh, "Yeah, he's a total badass."

The next morning, after telling his friends goodbye, Seth loaded up in his car and slowly made his way home checking texts and voicemails. They were mostly from Roman saying he was worried, asking where Seth was, threatening him with bodily harm and sex-withdrawal, and promising to fix anything he had broken between them. There were a few from Dean too, asking if Seth was coming home, asking if he was alive, then obviously deciding Seth had been brutally murdered he promised to find whoever did this to his puppy and make them whish they had never been born .

When he finally unlocked their front door, Dean and Roman were on him in an instant.

"Where in the fuck where you? We were worried sick!" Roman had his arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes laced with disappointment.

"We thought you'd fucking died. We thought you left us," Dean's voice grew low. "that you were never coming back." Dean's eyes were red and his entire form was drenched in the stench of cigarette smoke.

"I'd never leave you." Seth sat on the cold linoleum and pressed his back against the front door. "I just had to think."

"About what?" Dean's voice was accusatory.

"When I went out last night Jericho was there and he said," He drew his pink lip between his teeth. "some stuff."

"What stuff?" Roman was on his other side, voice calming and smooth.

"He said I wasn't good enough for you. He said that you were just biding your time until you could get rid of me. He said you thought I was useless. And he's right. You guys could get so much further without me holding you back. I'm sorry."

Sharing a look over Seth's head, they both placed their arms around him. "Puppy, listen to me and you listen to me good, Jericho is a complete and utter asshole. Dean and I love you very much and we would never do or say anything to hurt you. Please believe me."

Seth nodded in their arms and Roman placed a kiss on his head as Dean wiggled out of the group hug. He paced the room quietly and stopped suddenly. He grabbed up the bent and misshapen fork off the kitchen counter,

"Please, Dean. Don't." Seth begged, voice weak.

"He hurt you puppy. He made you cry." Dean had returned to pacing.

"It's fine, I already, sort of took care of it." Seth's face flushed a deep shade of red.

Roman arched an eyebrow and Dean stopped pacing. "I kind of trashed his car."

Dean whopped and Roman gave an appreciative smile but began reprimanding Seth for his actions when Dean interrupted him, "I told you the baseball bat would come in handy."

Laughing Dean fell back to the floor joining his smiling lovers. Sobering he turned to Seth and cleared his throat, "Um, puppy, I just want you to know I uh, I love you. And I love you too Roman. I know I'm pretty much one big ball of fucked up but you guys were willing to take me into your already functioning relationship. You were willing to open your home and your hearts to a dirty street kid who could have easily robbed you or killed you. For that, I am eternally grateful and I'm usually never this forward with my feelings but fuck it. So yeah, I love you."

There was a moment of silence hanging above the lot of them before Seth and Roman said, "We love you too Deany." And peppered his face with kisses.

Seth dislodged himself from the bundle of man heat and stood. "Well, I could go for a shower." Seth stripped off his shirt. "Anyone wanna join me?" Within seconds, they were racing towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. In that moment they couldn't be any happier, the thoughts of last night galaxies away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **My Heroes

**Rating:** PG-13

**Characters: **Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, OMC

**Pairing:** Dean/Seth/Roman

**Genre: **hurt/comfort

**Disclaimer:** Sadly I don't own the WWE.

**Summary: **Seth and Roman help Dean out, even if he doesn't know their names.

**Word Count: **705

**A.N./ Well enjoy, review, favorite, alert, all that jazz.**

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Jon stuck his fists into the pockets of his raggedy jeans and kept his eyes planted to the ground as he walked home. He wasn't as big or as tough or as tattooed or had served the extensive jail time as the people that hung out on the corner all he had was the small black handled switchblade and the knowledge of every major artery in the body.

"Moxley. You got my fuckin' money?" Richie or whatever the fuck the burly brown haired man's name was screamed at the small blonde. Trying to ignore him Jon pulled his hood up and put his feet to the pavement harder and faster. "I was fucking talking you, you half shit crack baby." There was a flesh brick wall between the frantic teen and his one bedroom apartment.

"I-I don't have your money. I don't have any money." His fingers traced the switchblade in his pocket.

The older man just laughed. He was laughing at him. He was fucking laughing because he was poor. Because he had to be a fucking drug mule because his mom could barely afford to pay the seemingly endless bills they had. He was laughing because Dean was too stupid to get a real job.

"Then what's that in your pocket?" Richie asked stalking into Dean's personal space.

"N-nothing, I'm just trying to get home. Please." The small blonde gripped at the handle of the knife.

"Aw, you're so pretty when you beg." His big sausage fingers where on Dean's cheek and his chest mashed against Dean's face.

He smelt rancid. The large man smelt of cheap liquor, sex, cigarettes, and the smell one acquires when you've spent that past week holed up in a basement shooting up meth.

"I'm not a faggot." Dean gritted his teeth but made no move to get away or remove the hand from his face.

"You don't have my fucking money; you are whatever the fuck I say you are." Slowly he circled his prey until he was pressed flush against Deans anterior. Trailing his fingers against Dean's skin and stopped just above the waistband of the terrified teen's jeans then he stuck his entire hand down the front of the loose blue jeans.

"Get your hands off me!" Flipping open the switchblade, Dean whirled around and swiped the blade blindly catching the larger man just below the left eye.

Stumbling back Richie touched the bleeding cut and smiled menacingly at the shaking highschooler. Charging foreword with arms extended he tackled Dean to the ground.

"Fucking useless bitch, just like your mother." Punches rained down onto the alabaster skin of Dean's face. "I swear to god if I ever fucking see you again I will kill you." Each word was punctuated with a harsh punch to the youngers face.

Stepping back from the unrecognizable heap on the concrete a harsh laugh penetrated the air. To add insult to injury Dean felt a splat of lukewarm liquid hit his cheek and he was sure it wasn't raining. Stumbling to his own feet, Dean spit blood toy the way side and stared deep into the eyes of the vile man standing across from him.

"No, you won't. You fucking pussy."

"I don't think I heard you right. What'd you just say you fucking dick?" Not waiting for an answer he charged but Dean was ready. As soon as the bear like man was within arms reach, he buried the knife in his chest up to the hilt.

For minutes, Dean sat there until a sizable pool of blood formed under him.

"Dean? Is that you?" In the distance, Dean could see the large silhouette of that kid from school Greek? Rome? And his butt-buddy Sam or something was trailing him. "Jesus kid, are you alright? Fuck, what'd you do? Seth," So that was his name. "Call the cops." Yanking his phone out on the verge of tears Seth called the police. "You wanna tell me what happened buddy?"

Dean wanted to scream and punch and tell this jackass he was not his friend much less his _buddy_ but he was just so damn drained he just recounted the story.

"Roman, the cops should be on here soon." Roman and Seth. His fucking heroes. Who'dathunk?

Dropping to his knees beside Dean, Seth placed his arms around the shaking boy. It had been years since Dean was held in someone's arms and he cried into Seth's shoulder as they waited for the cops to show up.


End file.
